


i'm movin' past the feelin'

by morzz



Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: F/M, [screams] MATT FRACTION, post-hawkeye #11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morzz/pseuds/morzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's pretty stupid that a forty-something-who-knows-how-old man like Clint Barton has two constants in the world: his protégé youngling archer, and his half-blind pizza dog. Now he's lost both of them, and everything has fallen to shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm movin' past the feelin'

**Author's Note:**

> oh man, i am depressed.

It's pretty stupid that a forty-something-who-knows-how-old man like Clint Barton has two constants in the world: his protégé youngling archer, and his half-blind pizza dog. Now he's lost both of them, and everything has fallen to shit.

 

* * *

 

He spends his days in the dark of his apartment, rolling in self-loath and alcohol, like there was any doubt. There's no one to eat breakfast with anymore, no more takeout dinners. No more snuggling-by-the-tv-with-the-dog routine. Burnt coffee with no one to share it with has never tasted so much like sadness.

When he goes to the bathroom, he takes time to look at the empty space in the toothbrush holder. There's only one now, where there used to be two. Kate kind-of lived there -- Clint liked that, he felt intact. But it's getting pretty lonely up there now.

 

* * *

 

Peter drives Clint home, being a good designated driver. Because Clint is wasted. At least he didn't drink alone this time. He should really stop drinking too, it's fucking unhealthy. _Go back to burnt coffee,_ he thinks. _Hang out with Steve more, go to lunch with Bobbi, forget about Kate for now._

_Katie-Kate._

Before he starts fulfilling his new goals, he goes to the phone. The same phone with the cord that Kate mocked him for still having. _It's the 21st century, old man._ Yeah, yeah. He dials a familiar number, the one in the back of his head. It goes on to voicemail, but that was expected.

"Hey Kate," his voice cracks. He's drunk and he's fucking delirious. "I really miss you here. I know I'm an asshole, and you keep helping me not to be, but you know me, I ruin everything. I'm really sorry. I wish I told you that sooner." There's silence for a while. "You're my best friend."  A beat. "Take care of Lucky." He hangs up.

The phone rings seconds after. _Fuck, this ain’t Kate._

.

.

.

“‘The fuck? Is this Barney?”


End file.
